| I take flight on borrowed time
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| I was once terrified of heights
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| I say a prayer, I look down and I’m ready to die
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| If you cross over tonight
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| You see beyond the darkest sky
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| You taste the blood as something wild and alive
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| You might light up in a flash
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| You won’t hold onto a flame
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| It’s a squalid way to live
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| But it’s the rules of the game
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| It ain’t your fault, it’s just a shame
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| To fall without aim
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| I walk down East 7th street
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| A wistful, wild depravity
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| Iconoclastic, black and white, dusty and sweet
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| I tell this story every time
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| Real love don’t follow a straight line
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| It breaks your neck, it builds you a delicate shrine
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| You might mourn all that you wasted
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| That’s just part of the haul
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| Tangling up all your good fortune
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| Bearing the heart of the fall
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| You won’t break it after all
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| Look at us, man and bride and a grinding sound
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| Faithful to a life underground
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| And when the picture fades the years will make us calm
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| I’ll sing a song at your funeral
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| Laid in the Mississippi gulf
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| Or back home at Waxahatchee Creek
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| You know you got a friend in me
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| I’m an angler married to the sea |